


A Flavor of Nonsense

by JonsaInTheNorth



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-12
Updated: 2016-08-12
Packaged: 2018-08-08 06:57:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7747651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JonsaInTheNorth/pseuds/JonsaInTheNorth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tormund is sure that brothers aren't supposed to look at their sisters that way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Flavor of Nonsense

_Uuuuuuuuuuhooooooooo_

Tormund blocks an attack from above before stopping mid-fight. His sparring partner, a Night’s Watch brother all dressed in black, turns to face the massive gate to Castle Black. As far as Tormund is aware, the brothers are not expecting southern visitors anytime soon, so the horn’s blow comes as a surprise to them all. He sets his hand on the sword at his waist; unlike his sparring stick this one is sharpened.

The gates slowly swing open, the loud grinding noise a familiar one to his ears by now. Three weary figure atop equally travel-worn horses plod through the opening. The entire courtyard has stilled to observe the newcomers. A large woman dressed in shining armor, her short blond hair slicked back, leads the small party. Her right hand rests warily on the pommel of a golden sword, her eyes assessing the area for danger and enemies. Tormund’s eyes widen. This warrior woman, for a fighter she must be, is quite unlike anyone has ever seen from the south.

He steps away from the sparring circle along with the rest of the men in the courtyard, closing in at an attempt to see the new arrivals better. The woman’s traveling companions are just as curious to see as the lady warrior. The boy is clothed in fine leather raiments that have seen fighting, splattered with dirt and blood, yet he eyes the Free Fold and Night’s Watch brothers fearfully.

The other woman, younger and kissed by fire, is less mousy than Tormund has been led to believe southern ladies were. She holds her head high as she dismounts her horse, landing with a delicate grace on the snow-covered courtyard of the castle.

The others in the party, even the leader, look to her as if her guidance. She hesitates as she turns her head, though. Her eyes widen as she takes it all in- the wall, the brothers, the Free Folk. She freezes as her inquisitive gaze reaches the balcony of the Lord Commander’s tower.

Tormund looks up to see Jon standing just as frozen as the woman, a look of shock across his face. Jon jolts back from the railing as their eyes meet. He studies her again as the former Lord Commander steps slowly down the stairs. The woman has a certain resemblance to Ygritte, although she is taller and more feminine than the dead spearwife, with gentle curves to her face and hair that has been brushed and tended to. 

Perhaps this is some former lover of Jon’s? He never has mentioned any redheaded loves, but the contortion of pain on Jon’s face now, despite the love brimming in his eyes, suggests a parting that was not a happy one. 

Suddenly, the woman throws herself into Jon’s arms, clearing the space between them with a few quick steps. Jon pulls her in and lifts her off the ground, cradling her body close against his own. This reunion, whatever the relation between the two may be, is sweet and beautiful to watch. Despite the crowd surrounding them for this tender, intimate thing, the two are caught in their embrace and totally ignorant of their audience.

Moments later, when Jon has finally set the woman down, he beckons for Tormund and Ed, Melisandre and Davos. The woman’s party comes forward as well. Tormund navigates himself to stand next to the tall blond, although she shies away immediately.

Jon’s words are fumbled and awkward as he introduces his lady to the advisors. “May I present my half-sister, Lady Sansa Stark of Winterfell?”

Tormund steps back in astonishment. “Sister?"

“Yes.” Jon’s cheeks redden just enough to be noticeable. “The eldest trueborn daughter of Lord Eddard Stark and Lady Catelyn Tully.”

Tormund tries not to act startled or make any comments, but he had no idea how close siblings in the South could be. There was a different look in Jon’s eyes when he greeted Sansa Stark, a confused happiness that had not appeared in the weeks since his return from death.

Tormund keeps his thoughts to himself, though, for the time being. He focuses on his weapons and the strange maid, Brienne of Tarth, who is Sansa Stark’s sworn shield. 

Tormund says nothing when he passes by and sees Jon light up at a joke his sister makes. He says nothing when Sansa forcefully grabs Jon’s hand in front of all their advisors and holds on a few seconds longer than is right. Tormund says nothing when she gifts Jon a cloak emblazoned with her sigil, although he is certain that is traditional to the marriage rites of the South as kidnapping is to the rites of the true North. He even manages to stay quiet when Sansa is the only one to pull Jon back from insanity’s edge after the Battle of the Bastards, and after she smiles proudly as he is proclaimed King in the North.

But after Sansa’s other brother stumbles into Winterfell’s courtyard, and announces to the council that Jon is not, in fact, their brother, Tormund can no longer stay silent.

He approaches Brienne on the battlements, and leans on the wall next to her. She has finally stopped shying away from him although her gaze is still on guard. Tormund is glad to see her this way, always in her warrior mindset.

“I hope I’m not the only one who sees the only solution to Jon’s troubles.” He comments. 

Brienne scowls at him. “And what’s that?”

“Har.” Tormund laughs. “Do you truly not see it? He and your lady as good as decided it for us all those moons ago at Castle Black.”

Her eyes narrow, but Brienne is still listening closely. She nods, waiting for him to continue. Tormund takes the opportunity to lean in closer to her. “Why, wed them, of course. Har!”

Brienne steps back. She opens her mouth as if to answer, but then shuts it and thinks for a moment. “I think- I think you’re right, Giantsbane.”

Tormund loops his arm through hers like he has seen Jon do to Sansa a hundred times. Without waiting for her reaction, he drags Brienne away to make his suggestion formally to the King and the essential Queen in the North. Weddings mean mead and jolly fun, and perhaps even a chance to dance with the knight on his arm. More importantly, it means the nonsense between Jon and Sansa may finally stop some, or at least they will be forced to acknowledge it.

**Author's Note:**

> Come hang out and fangirl about Jonsa and other ASOIAF/GOT goodness with me on [tumblr](http://jonsa-in-the-north.tumblr.com).


End file.
